


Not here

by chaos_monkey



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Coming In Pants, Desmond's identity crisis continues, Desperation, Gen, Humiliation, Kink Discovery, Masturbation, Omorashi, Shaun is a jerk, Wetting, What else is new, You Have Been Warned, just... so much pee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:01:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25448770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaos_monkey/pseuds/chaos_monkey
Summary: Ezio gets desperate and Desmond... accidentally learns something new about himself.
Comments: 37
Kudos: 70





	Not here

**Author's Note:**

> It was really only a matter of time before I wrote self-indulgent Assassin's Creed piss kink, and Revakah and Fallowsthorn are equally at fault for egging me on here. 
> 
> Mind the tags and enjoy the filth! xx

Ezio pulled himself up onto the roof of the tower, wincing as the motion sent yet another urgent spasm through his distended bladder and once more regretting not having relieved himself sooner. It had taken much longer than he’d anticipated, clearing out the guards in the area down below without getting caught, and what had been a minor concern to begin with was now a painfully desperate need, his every movement sending a hot, aching _throb_ through his midsection. 

Dusk was rapidly approaching, and he needed to be finished here and long gone before the dead guards were discovered on the shift change, so he had forgone a quick pee break down below before beginning the climb. What he hadn’t counted on, unfortunately, was how distracting it would be to be absolutely desperate for a piss while climbing the massive tower. 

Every jump, every catch on a ledge, every time he hung by his fingertips from a narrow beam or a lip of rough stone, another demanding bolt of need shot through him with a little flush of panic, until his hands were sweating so much he’d begun to worry he was going to slip. 

But thankfully, he’d made it without incident… of any kind. 

With a sigh of relief, Ezio crouched down on the short beam at one corner of the rooftop, the hunched position finally giving his protesting bladder a much-needed respite. He forced himself not to rush his visual scan of the area and waste all that effort, shifting a little and squeezing himself through his pants with a quiet groan. That helped, and since no one down below could see him up here, he squeezed himself again, absentmindedly tugging at his cock with a distracted grunt while his gaze traveled the streets and buildings below, making mental notes of potential hiding places and escape routes even as the Animus filled in the relevant areas of his map for him. 

By the time he finished that, Ezio belatedly realized he’d caressed himself more than half into fullness, his cock now throbbing lightly under his fingers with _two_ conflicting urges. It had done the job at least, his need to pee having abated slightly as he stiffened up under his own touch, becoming instead an… almost pleasant, sharp counterpoint to the quieter burn of arousal in his core. Adjusting himself quickly under his clothing, Ezio took one last look, visually tracing the fastest route to the nearby docks; then stood up, faced the nearest cart below, and made the Leap. 

Diving through the air with the wind rushing wildly past him gave him the usual delighted headrush, that dizzying feeling of pure _freedom—_ but all too soon he had to tuck in under himself, twisting, landing on his back in the thick, fragrant cushion of blossoms with a muffled thump a heartbeat later. 

Unfortunately, the sudden jolt of the landing sent another sharp pain through his belly, even worse then the ones before— and to Ezio’s horror he felt a spray of heat soak into his underclothes before he got himself back under control, curling in on himself and awkwardly managing to clutch himself through his pants again with a pained gasp. He rolled out of the cart immediately, forcing himself to let go of his cock and looking around frantically to get his bearings so he could make it to those docks in time. 

He couldn’t just go in the streets, not here. Not in the rich district where it would instantly attract attention and mark him as not belonging. To make matters worse, he could see the next guard shift for the tower coming down the street already— he had to leave the area _now,_ before they discovered the bodies and started looking for him. Ezio really did not want to learn if he could still fight off or escape a mob of city guards while actively pissing himself, something that was rapidly becoming a distinctly likely outcome if he didn’t manage to relieve himself very, very soon. 

Heading the opposite way from the approaching guards, Ezio hurried around the corner and doubled back around a block away to head for the nearby docks. He could feel the sweat prickling on his back and neck, the uneasy flush rising to his face, and he ducked his head, breaking into a half-run and restraining himself from grabbing at his crotch again through sheer force of will. 

The streets were frustratingly crowded here, but after a hop over a low ledge was enough to send another brief jet of piss soaking into his breeches, making the thin material cling uncomfortably to his leg, Ezio abandoned the idea of cutting directly across the rooftops instead and continued shoving his way through the crowds. By the time he rounded the last corner, he _was_ running, heedless of the angry shouts behind him after colliding with someone carrying a crate of goods and sending it tumbling to the ground in a crash. 

Dashing along beside the low wall, Ezio skidded around the corner, panting, already fumbling with the ties of his pants as he hurried down the wooden ramp towards the water. He felt another thin trickle of heat run down the inside of his thigh, and this time he couldn’t stop it from intensifying to a hot, steady stream. It was heavy enough to begin soaking through even the thick material of his pants, and a small wet patch bloomed over the tip of his cock, almost immediately becoming a spreading dark streak that crept unevenly but quickly down the inside of his pant leg. 

Cursing to himself, Ezio stumbled to a halt in the middle of the dock and finally managed to yank out his already-pissing cock before he wet himself any further. Heaving a groan of pure relief, he finally let go completely, piss splattering loudly over the wooden slats at his feet before he got himself aimed properly off the edge and into the water. It felt so good to let go, he couldn’t even manage to care at the moment about the state of his pants, or the fact that he had managed to pee on his own hands, down his leg, _and_ onto one boot while wrestling himself out of his dampened clothing. His robes would cover the worst of it, and at least he hadn’t had to resort to doing it in the crowded street or wound up _completely_ pissing himself— 

_Desmond! Desmond, what the_ fuck— _I’m pulling you out._

The world slowed and shivered around him, flashing and crackling, stretching, distorting; Ezio was abruptly falling upwards and away from his own body, watching himself standing on the dock with his cock out; but he could still _feel_ it, could still feel the bliss of release, that terrible pressure in his belly finally lessening— 

“Desmond, can you hear me? Are you okay?” 

Ezio— no, Desmond, he was Desmond— groaned, blinking groggily awake to the feeling of a hand shaking his shoulder, the sight of Lucy’s concerned and shocked face above him, and the realization that he was pissing full-force into his jeans, loud enough he could actually hear it hissing out of him. 

In the Animus. 

In front of everyone. 

_Fuck._

Desmond groaned again, clenching his thighs together and jamming both hands into his wet crotch, trying desperately to cut off the stream of piss by gripping his cock so hard it actually hurt. Not here; he couldn’t— he couldn’t be peeing his pants _here…_ but he fucking _was._

“‘m fine. Just. Forgot…” He trailed off, not wanting to admit he’d gotten so caught up in being Ezio that he’d lost track of himself in there. Again. Lucy was already concerned about that, and this was definitely not going to help matters one bit. 

He could deal with that later, though, when he wasn’t trying to salvage any remaining dignity that might be left to someone who was sitting in a warm puddle of his own piss, grabbing himself through his soaked pants like a goddamn child, and whimpering quietly while he tried to _stop fucking pissing himself_ in front of the entire team. 

Heat rose his face and he closed his eyes, too mortified to look at Lucy. He did manage to cut it off for the most part, but little spurts and dribbles kept leaking from his cock under his clutching hands. His straining bladder was still aching, protesting even more now that it had been forced to stop again mid-release, and he knew his body was going to finish the job in very short order, whether he wanted it to or not. 

“I’m fine,” he managed to croak. “I’ll deal with it. Just… please go.” 

The last came out as a pleading whisper. Desmond knew Rebecca and Shaun must be staring at him too— oh god, Shaun was _never_ going to let him live down having an accident like this— and he kept his eyes shut, focusing on holding the floodgates closed with every shred of self control he had left and hoping Lucy would take the hint and get everyone out so he could finish embarrassing himself in peace. 

“We’re done for the day,” Lucy announced, and Desmond heard her walk away from him as she spoke. “Come on.” 

“But I’m not finished with the—” 

“Shaun, leave it. You can come back to it tomorrow. Out.” 

The sounds of chairs being pushed back was followed by the muted tramping of shoes on concrete as the three of them left together. Desmond flushed harder at the sound of Shaun’s voice from down the hallway, the words unintelligible but the derisive snort of laughter at the end all too clear. 

He finally opened his eyes again with a groan the moment he couldn’t hear them anymore, rolling awkwardly to his feet with both hands still at his crotch. The seat of his jeans was already soaked through, his boxers so wet they started dripping down his legs the moment he stood up; and Desmond made it about halfway across the room before he couldn’t hold it anymore. 

His bladder gave one more angry spasm and the intermittent leaks turned into a gush that drenched the front of his jeans almost instantly. Desmond stumbled to a halt still meters away from the bathroom with a low whimper. There was clearly no point in trying to fight it anymore, and he’d only make even _more_ of a mess if he kept moving; so he finally just gave in with a shaky groan of relief and let it come right there. 

The dizzying wave of release made him sway on his feet as hot piss flooded down his thighs, welling out through the dripping wet denim to spill over his still-clutching fingers. Despite the embarrassment and shame and utter humiliation of having just wet his pants in front of the entire team, it still felt so fucking _wonderful_ to finally let go properly that Desmond couldn’t stop the helpless moan of pleasure that rose in his throat while he pissed himself. He found himself staring down at it, too, watching with a vaguely horrified sort of rapt fascination as the spreading wetness darkened both legs of his jeans and his piss dripped and pattered onto the floor to form little growing puddles between his shoes. 

He couldn’t help thinking about being up on that viewpoint tower as Ezio, too, idly playing with his stiffening cock until he was simultaneously horny and still desperate to pee… Somehow the paired sensations had been oddly exciting, and Desmond wasn’t sure if that was some sort of kink of Ezio’s coming through the bleeding effect or just an inclination he hadn’t known about himself until now, but between that memory and how good it felt to finally _go,_ his cock was slowly but surely hardening under his hand, before he’d even finished peeing. 

The desperate stream was slowing into a weak but steady trickle, the wet warmth still running down his legs and seeping into his soaked jeans. Desmond gave his pissing cock a tentative, experimental tug through his pants, and his knees nearly buckled under him at the flash of pleasure through his over-sensitive cock. Breathless with nervous anticipation, he stood there staring down at his own crotch, frozen, hesitating; then gave himself another slow, deliberate stroke that pulled a shaky groan from his throat and set his still-leaking cock stiffening even faster. 

Without giving himself time to think about it any further, Desmond sank to his knees right there in the middle of the room, tugged his zipper down, and shoved his hand into his pants to wrap his fingers around his wet, twitching dick with a little needy whimper. He fisted himself hard and fast from the start, his soaked boxers rubbing at the head of his cock; and he had no idea why he was doing this, frantically jerking off after uncontrollably pissing his pants, but he really couldn’t care at the moment, his breath coming in short, sharp pants and tension building fast behind his cock. Everything felt tender and sensitive in the best possible way, and it barely took any time at all before he jerked with a strangled grunt, cock throbbing in his hand and adding spurts of hot, thick come to the mess in his jeans. 

Panting, his head swimming as he trembled through the aftershocks, he just knelt there in his puddle trying to catch his breath again, holding his softening cock with his hand still shoved down his pants and covered in his own piss and come. A fresh trickle of heat wet his fingers and he groaned, shivering, both unwilling and unable to fight it as his tortured bladder let go on him again, the slow wash of heat spreading through his crotch and seeping into his already drenched jeans. 

He finally finished emptying himself completely, the soft sound of piss dripping onto the floor from the over-saturated denim mingling with the harsher noise of his own heavy breathing. With the debauched, unexpected thrill and the high of orgasm both past and his jeans already getting uncomfortably itchy, Desmond was suddenly all too aware of the fact that he now had a huge fucking mess to deal with. 

And he was _really_ not looking forward to the inevitable humiliation of facing the others again after this. Maybe he should consider trying not to get quite so… immersed in the Animus, in being Ezio; like Lucy said. 

Pushing himself back onto his feet with a groan, Desmond squished the rest of the way to the bathroom, seriously wondering whether his sneakers were even salvageable at this point— but he was damn well going to take a shower first and worry about everything else later. 


End file.
